


Good Night

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Broken Heart, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Pining, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after season 2, episode 1... John tries to bring words of comfort to Sherlock's broken heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a year and a half ago and posted it to my DA. I was just going through my HD to see what old stories I should post here. This was a sweet one. I wrote it as a way to deal with my "feels" after watching the episode (dated January 3, 2012... two days after it first aired).
> 
> And see? I don't always write "Explicit." ^.~

John lay on the couch, listening for movement in Sherlock’s room that signaled his consciousness. Over and over he replayed in his mind words from THE Woman… the woman who had twisted Sherlock around her little finger, teasing him… enthralling him. And of course he caved. What man… what untouched man wouldn’t be affected by a curve of breast or a full lip? But it was her words that burned…

“You’re a couple…”

“I’m not gay…”

“So? I am.” 

Simple and elegant truth… John loved Sherlock. How many women had dumped him, citing his devotion to Sherlock as the cause? How often had Sherlock’s own brother Mycroft taken him under his confidence because of the connection he held with Sherlock? Mrs. Hudson… Lestrade… even poor Molly KNEW. They counted on John’s devotion and love to keep Sherlock sane and happy. And then there were Moriarty and Irene… they knew too.

The only person who didn’t know had been John. Poor, clueless John Hamish Watson, good mate to all but loved by none.

But he had a clue now. Oh yes… the moment he saw the Woman and knew what she had done… it broke his heart… not for his own sake of losing his best friend to her… but because of the way she had twisted and broke Sherlock’s heart as if it were a plaything. So much rage passed through him and it hurt… it FUCKING hurt to see her so careless with something so delicate. Sherlock deserved so much better.

Sherlock was broken now. 

Wiping at his eyes, John sat up, swallowing sniffles. Quietly he made his way to the kitchen and prepared tea. Thinking better of it he poured a second and went to Sherlock’s door, lightly tapping. There was movement within so he cautiously opened, seeing Sherlock sitting on the bed. Wordlessly he approached and held out the soothing drink to his friend who took it and sat with it steaming below his chin. 

“How long does it last?” The baritone asked, his voice raw and soft.

“How long does what last?” 

Sherlock looked up at John, eyes vulnerable and open.

“It… depends.” Clearing his throat, John sat near the foot of the bed, cradling his mug in his hands.

“Worst case?”

“Worst case…” John sighed, staring at the periodic table behind Sherlock’s door. “Worst case you run off to Afghanistan for three tours of duty.”

Sherlock blew on his tea. 

“But I had no one… My parents were gone and Harry… Harry just wasn’t there for me.” Cautiously John took a sip. “Lots of people care for you, Sherlock. You should know that.”

“Lots? Why?” 

John smiled. His eyes were on the footboard of the bed. “All our friends… Mrs, Hudson… Molly is bonkers for you. They enjoy your company even when you’re being a bloody git. People care for you, Sherl. Please believe me. So don’t go running off to Afghanistan.”

“I won’t…” Sherlock replied quietly, holding the mug to his lips.

“We’ll get through this.” John forced a smile and absently reached out to pat Sherlock’s free hand. “You’ve got me.” Memories of the woman came back, forcing John to falter in his enthusiasm. Love was a one way street. He could pour it out but Sherlock would never return it. Sherlock loved games… puzzles… the woman. Attempting to smile again, John pulled his hand away. “Sorry to be a bother. I’ll let you rest. I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

“John?” Sherlock whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you… for the tea.” 

John paused, for a moment thinking Sherlock meant something else. “You’re welcome.” Getting up from the bed he headed for the door. As he reached for the handle he looked back at the figure on the bed. “I’m here for you. You know that… right?”

Sherlock held John’s gaze for a moment before giving a brief nod.

“Sleep well, Sherlock.”

For a moment the old twinkle returned to Sherlock’s eye as he stared back at John. “Good night.”

\--Fin


End file.
